Last person on to the train gets shot in the head
About the weekend:
Friday I had to bail on the usual Crews (sorry guys!) to attend a birthday party for Joanna, a good friend from Hong Kong. We had dinner at Red Lobster and then went out to sing karaoke with her two aunts (dykes!). Yes, I did plenty of Madonna. I'm also the only one who knew all of the words to My Humps and that Lil' Kim rap in Lady Marmelade.
Saturday evening I had another birthday dinner near Kipling for my coworker Michelle, after which I had to zip into downtown to meet Matt and Lane for a birthday party that was happening in the Village, at Byzantium. That party got old very quickly, and we wandered over to Crews. The line-up was gimungous--absolutely gimungous--so we cut the line when Matt ran into some Waterlooers that he knew (I think they're Sysies). I got carded again BTW. That dumb dyke, she sees me there every week at least once. I'm convinced that she just doesn't like me.
The plan on Sunday was to meet Jeanne for coffee and then go up to Markham to visit my grandfather. But my grandmother called early in the morning to tell me not to come up as my grandfather was feeling "uncomfortable" and that they were not allowing visitors. I thought this was completely sketchtastic, as she had told my cousin that my grandfather had merely "fallen down" when he had in fact had a fucking stroke. So I called my dad in Hong Kong and told him about my conversation with grandma. He called her and found out that my grandfather had thrown up overnight and that the nurses were keeping him under close observation to try and find out the cause. It's apparently "not that serious" (because my grandmother would really say if it was) ...
Anyway, since I didn't have to go up-up-uptown, I hung out with Jeanne until she had to leave to catch her bus back to Kingston. I later met up with Angela to do some blender shopping (I needed one to mix my weight gain powder) and then pretty much spent the rest of the day watching One Tree Hill. I can not get enough of this show! Sure, all the people having sex is kind of depressing, but, on the other hand, the characters' lives are so fucked up that I don't envy them! ... OK, maybe I envy just a little bit. You know, for their good looks.
I woke up really early to go to the gym this morning after having slept for only four hours. I am tired. Sevki has really stepped things up, and my arms are completely useless right now (I had a lot of trouble changing).
I was hopping on to the subway at St. Clair station when the person in front of me tapped my arm. I looked up, and it was Calvin! Whoa, talk about coincidence. We chatted between St. Clair and Bloor about work and living arrangements. Apparently he's going on exchange next term to Scotland, so who knows if or when I'll ever see him again?
Last but not least, Toronto commuters are fucking idiots. There is no need to run for the subway train. The announcements do not lie: WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE. I mean, sure, if the platform's empty, run for fun or as a joke. That's fine. But during the fucking rush, you're just going to ram into people to catch a train when the next one is going to pull up as soon as this one leaves. Seriously, trains are frighteningly frequent during rush hour. Not to mention that if you're only coming up the escalator to see the southbound Yonge train doors about to close, chances are that the train is so full you're not going to fit into it anyway!
I just don't understand. I mean, maybe all of these people are brain surgeons rushing into some critical surgery. That would actually justify the rush. However, I suspect that most of these people are completely dispensable paper pushers, rushing beyond all rush to get to their downtown offices and sit at a desk all day. Please tell me why being one to two minutes later is life-or-death here.
Oh wait, seriously last: There was this really cute, sharply-dressed dude disembarking from the subway train at St. Clair station, but his Lululemon bowling bag was a bit much for my tastes.
Friday I had to bail on the usual Crews (sorry guys!) to attend a birthday party for Joanna, a good friend from Hong Kong. We had dinner at Red Lobster and then went out to sing karaoke with her two aunts (dykes!). Yes, I did plenty of Madonna. I'm also the only one who knew all of the words to My Humps and that Lil' Kim rap in Lady Marmelade.
Saturday evening I had another birthday dinner near Kipling for my coworker Michelle, after which I had to zip into downtown to meet Matt and Lane for a birthday party that was happening in the Village, at Byzantium. That party got old very quickly, and we wandered over to Crews. The line-up was gimungous--absolutely gimungous--so we cut the line when Matt ran into some Waterlooers that he knew (I think they're Sysies). I got carded again BTW. That dumb dyke, she sees me there every week at least once. I'm convinced that she just doesn't like me.
The plan on Sunday was to meet Jeanne for coffee and then go up to Markham to visit my grandfather. But my grandmother called early in the morning to tell me not to come up as my grandfather was feeling "uncomfortable" and that they were not allowing visitors. I thought this was completely sketchtastic, as she had told my cousin that my grandfather had merely "fallen down" when he had in fact had a fucking stroke. So I called my dad in Hong Kong and told him about my conversation with grandma. He called her and found out that my grandfather had thrown up overnight and that the nurses were keeping him under close observation to try and find out the cause. It's apparently "not that serious" (because my grandmother would really say if it was) ...
Anyway, since I didn't have to go up-up-uptown, I hung out with Jeanne until she had to leave to catch her bus back to Kingston. I later met up with Angela to do some blender shopping (I needed one to mix my weight gain powder) and then pretty much spent the rest of the day watching One Tree Hill. I can not get enough of this show! Sure, all the people having sex is kind of depressing, but, on the other hand, the characters' lives are so fucked up that I don't envy them! ... OK, maybe I envy just a little bit. You know, for their good looks.
I woke up really early to go to the gym this morning after having slept for only four hours. I am tired. Sevki has really stepped things up, and my arms are completely useless right now (I had a lot of trouble changing).
I was hopping on to the subway at St. Clair station when the person in front of me tapped my arm. I looked up, and it was Calvin! Whoa, talk about coincidence. We chatted between St. Clair and Bloor about work and living arrangements. Apparently he's going on exchange next term to Scotland, so who knows if or when I'll ever see him again?
Last but not least, Toronto commuters are fucking idiots. There is no need to run for the subway train. The announcements do not lie: WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE. I mean, sure, if the platform's empty, run for fun or as a joke. That's fine. But during the fucking rush, you're just going to ram into people to catch a train when the next one is going to pull up as soon as this one leaves. Seriously, trains are frighteningly frequent during rush hour. Not to mention that if you're only coming up the escalator to see the southbound Yonge train doors about to close, chances are that the train is so full you're not going to fit into it anyway!
I just don't understand. I mean, maybe all of these people are brain surgeons rushing into some critical surgery. That would actually justify the rush. However, I suspect that most of these people are completely dispensable paper pushers, rushing beyond all rush to get to their downtown offices and sit at a desk all day. Please tell me why being one to two minutes later is life-or-death here.
Oh wait, seriously last: There was this really cute, sharply-dressed dude disembarking from the subway train at St. Clair station, but his Lululemon bowling bag was a bit much for my tastes.